Silence Comes Full Circle
by Blythe Flynn
Summary: Ginny walks the narrow pathway to the derelict Riddle study...they are waiting for her; it is time for her to take her seat in the circle. But how much will she have to sacrifice in order to gain acceptance?


_**Chapter One: Introduction- or- The Circle Court is Broken**_

**Author's Note:** Alright, this is my first piece post- review whoring, Mary-Sueing therapy…so I hope it turns out alright. Special thanks to Scritch for inspiring this one, don't worry, yours will be different and (most likely) better than this…but I can have dreams, can't I? Anyway, this story just emerged out of my head this evening and I couldn't contain it for a moment's reprieve!

**Disclaimer:** Rowling created all these characters. None are figments of my imagination, all are hers…what I do with them is all mine…

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A line of dotted flames lined the passage leading to the Study of the crippled Riddle house. A thin winter-whistle of wind wove through the creepers ivy crawling over the tired brick and shingles of the ill-kempt roof and then was stifled. Somewhere far away, in some happy yard in the sleepy village, a dog barked furiously—and then fell silent.

Ginny knew why her feet carried her forward, she knew why her eyes were fixed on the path before her, the hardwood floor creaking conspicuously beneath her buckled shoes. She had bought those shoes at Hogsmead the year before with the money Harry and Ron had given her as a gift for her third year graduation. They were nice shoes, brown shoes, practical but pretty. Pretty enough to wear tonight.

The flickering of the congregating wicks slid under the door of the study before her. Remaining steady in pace as she continued down the corridor, even the creaking stopped; she drew her hand out to turn the handle of the door and her footsteps were interrupted by stillness. Silence now. Her pale, languid hand clasped around the cold pewter, she turned her wrist counter-clockwise and pushed against the thick, heavy, mahogany door, the Riddle family crest casting sharp, jagged shadows on the slice of candlelight beckoning Ginny forward. They were waiting. For her.

Encircling the ring of prickling flame they sat, motionless. One space remained to be filled…by her. She stopped in the foreboding doorway and her shallow breath caught in her ribcage. Eyes unwavering, unblinking, the Death Eaters sat on the unforgiving floor. Gnarly spines contorted in forced posture and rigid necks holding up even more stone-like faces sat in sharp contrast between light and dark, each facing the pledge –Ginny. After a suffocating, pregnant pause, Antonin Delohov spoke.

"And so the solstice has come. Ginevra. You are to be the only underage witch in our court. How does that suit you?"

"It suits me—"

"No. You have not been granted the privilege of speech yet. You shall swallow your tongue and all of its follies until the circle is complete.

"You are lacking in skill and expertise, but you are fresh and not yet wilted. Your encounter with the Dark Lord's previous persona has left a mark on you, no doubt."

Ginny bent over, keeping her face towards the broken loop of Death Eaters and removed her shoes. The shoes the boys' galleons had bought her. Cheapened money. On the bottom of her left foot it glared angrily at the graven faces. A burn flashed across the ruddy sole of her foot. The burn that was born of the moment Harry had plunged the dagger into the heart of Tom Riddle's diary. The burn that tingled bitter-sweetly with each progressive step she had taken towards this moment. This present burning. The Dark Lord had consumed her desires more than she was ever at liberty to reveal. As he had devoured her will and fed her his own, her wish to remain pure slowly had ebbed out of her, leaving nothing more than a hole where it had been. The lines of Tom and Ginny had been blurred, confused, and it was Ginny who had made the decision to come forward tonight. They knew this well.

"Good. Tonight you shall become one with us and one with our master. Does that please you?"

She remained silent. She didn't need words –yet.

"You have slowly severed your ties to your housemates. We have watched you carefully and you shall be a fitted addition to our court. You suit us well. We know of your great patience, four years of wordless alliance. Under our care you shall be made into the ultimate contribution possible for someone of your abilities. At the end of the rite you shall be granted your voice. Understood?" Antonin's silken, yet torn voice compelled her to agree.

Ginny tried to speak, quietly, but just to test her vocal chords, so constricting, only no noise came out. She was struck dumb.

"Just a precaution. Are you prepared? Then let the ceremony begin."


End file.
